Let Me Die in My Footsteps
by halfasblind
Summary: She's about to tell him to stuff it as she composes herself. Then she looks up into his face, stares into his soft brown eyes and her complaints die on her tongue. Brooke/Chuck.


Disclaimer: One Tree Hill, Chuck and its characters belong to The CW, NBC, Mark Schwahn, Josh Schwartz, et al. I claim no ownership.

Summary: "So I could be wearing you? I mean, not you as in the person, but you as in the label."

Spoilers/Warnings: S1 of "Chuck" and Post-S4 of "One Tree Hill"

—

She walks into the Buy More, laptop in hand. She has a meeting in five hours and her designs are saved on her now defunct computer. She doesn't know what happened, only that yesterday she'd been able to check her email and scour the celebrity gossip sites and today she couldn't even get the damn thing to turn on. She didn't even know why she bothered; she always broke her computers—this was her third laptop in two years.

"I don't care what you have to do, fix it," she barks at the overwhelmed worker behind the counter. She points to the useless electronic device between them. "Work your little nerd magic and get everything shiny and colorful again." She snaps her fingers when he just blinks and seems unable to process her command. "Today, Bill! TODAY."

"It's okay, Joe. Just bring it to Lester in the back," a voice says from behind her.

She spins around, ready to tear into whoever has intervened. She turns too abruptly and collides into the body behind her. Warm hands clutch her arms to hold her steady. "Whoa. Easy there," he says in a deep voice that she finds deeply appealing. He steps back, telling her, "You know it's really not cool of you to snarl at Joe like that. It's his first week here."

She's about to tell him to stuff it as she composes herself. Then she looks up into his face, stares into his soft brown eyes and her complaints die on her tongue. Instead, she finds herself saying, "I'm sorry. I just really need my computer."

He rounds the corner of the station as he asks, "Why don't you tell me what's wrong with it? It might help us discern the problem."

She sighs and shrugs. "I don't know. I think it caught a cold or something. It worked last night and then didn't this morning. Much to my annoyance."

He smiles. He has a really nice smile. "You probably caught a virus. It happens. Do you have security?"

"I'm not that famous. I don't need bodyguards."

Again with the smile. "I was talking about the computer, but if you say so."

She perseveres through what could have been an awkward moment. "Look," she begins, looking at his name tag, "Chuck. I'm not trying to be bitch here. I have a meeting in five hours and all of my work is on that computer. I need it to be fixed. Quick like. Today. Yesterday, even."

He reaches into his shirt pocket and holds out a flash drive. "You need one of these. It comes in handy when things like this happen."

This time _she_ smiles. "I have one of those. But unfortunately for both of us it's in New York."

He manages to look chagrined as he pushes the flash drive back into his pocket. It would've been good advice. "Well. That doesn't help, does it?"

"No, it does not," she says, quite humored by the situation despite her overwhelming need to freak out.

"Lester will call up here as soon as he's looked at your computer. He'll let us know if it's a quick fix or not. So, um… what do you do?"

"I do clothes."

"Like, you sell them?"

"Mostly I design them. I sell them, too."

"Huh." He checks the tag under his tie. "So I could be wearing you? I mean, not you as in the person, but you as in the label." He pauses to breathe. "You know what I mean." A pause. "You do, don't you?"

She nods, notices a man standing not far off, watching them. When he catches her eye, he returns to his work, or at least pretends to. "So, Chuck. What are you, like, Head Nerd or something?"

He plays with tie, she notices. It's adorable in a dorky kind of way. But Chuck doesn't seem like the pocketprotector-wearing, suspender-sporting stereotypical nerd. This kind of nerd could get her blood flowing.

"I oversee them, sure, but I wouldn't say that I was _Head_ Nerd. I don't have an official title or anything." He reaches into a drawer, pulls out a slip of paper and slides a form across the counter. "Fill this out," he instructs her. "So that we know who to contact in case there's something seriously wrong with your computer," he adds when she looks at him curiously.

"Are you sure this isn't a lame attempt to get my number?" she jokes, taking the pen that he offers.

He grows quiet and she thinks she's made him uncomfortable. Okay. She'd been under the impression he'd been flirting with her. As she busies herself with filling out the form, a blonde bombshell appears at the counter, a brown paper bag in hand. "I brought you lunch," she tells Chuck as she sets the bag on the counter.

"S-s-sarah! Hi. Wh-wh-wh-what? Lunch? I already ate lunch. With Morgan."

"You did?" Sarah echoes. She doesn't seem that shocked, Brooke muses, but concentrates on what she's doing, aware all the while that Sarah keeps looking at her, almost as if she's silently inquring, "Who are you and why are you talking to my boyfriend?" Brooke lifts her head for a moment as Sarah tells Chuck with a sickly sweet smile of her own, "I must've got my days confused. I thought I was bringing you lunch today."

Feeling Sarah's eyes back on her, Brooke hurriedly fills in her information, pushing the paper back towards Chuck. "Um, just call me when you or Lester or whoever fixes the computer." She smiles politely at Sarah and quickly makes her way out of the store. At the doors, she makes the mistake of looking back over her shoulder at Chuck. He's looking at her, too, completely ignoring his girlfriend or whatever Sarah was to him.

"It wouldn't have worked anyhow."

Brooke follows the voice to her left where the eavesdropper is standing. For a moment he just stands there, staring at her. Finally, he steps beside her, motions towards Chuck and Sarah with a jut of his chin.

"You'd just be a little temporary insanity. He strays pretty often, but always winds up back with her. It's kind of sickening, the little dance they play." He stops for a moment, then starts to add, "You seem like a nice girl—"

"You don't know anything about me," she hurriedly interrupts.

"True. But I work with him. I know him and I know that you're better off without him."

She turns back to look at Chuck one last time before she walks out of the store. She'll just reschedule her meeting and buy a new computer. Because mixing herself up with the West Coast Lucas Scott is not worth all the trouble.


End file.
